


Better Living Through Chemistry

by etherati



Series: Kink Bingo Stuff [9]
Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Drugs, Established Relationship, F/M, Fisting, M/M, Medication, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not the illegal kind though, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherati/pseuds/etherati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the hardest thing is letting someone in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Living Through Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo(Free square, 'fisting' and 'drugs/aphrodisiacs' combined), LETTING SOMEONE IN, DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE

*  
  
He has taken these chemicals before. Daniel claims it’s a result of his fighting style – that he is too tight and forceful, deflecting the energy of his opponents only by meeting them head-on – that he ends up with so many strains and pulls, muscle giving before bone does.  
  
He’s good at walking it off, most nights, but when he can’t Daniel gives him these pills.  
  
They make him feel strange; light and relaxed and open, empty in a way that instinctively craves filling. Thoughts looser too, rising up out of the murk in their stark honesty, undeniable in what they ask for. It’d devastated him early on, how badly he’d wanted Daniel in those moments, endless nights of lying slack and spread over the cot with Daniel hovering nearby; eaten him up with its ache before he’d finally mumbled the words into the calm haze of the basement,  _Daniel, need–_  
  
*  
  
The bottle of muscle relaxants is open on the night stand, the light coming in through the bedside window still tinted amber with streetlight. It’s early to have already called it a night, Laurie thinks, and if it was up to Rorschach they would both still be out there. She’d probably be hauling his pretzel-twisted body from bust to bust, propping him up somewhere intimidating to glower from and then handling the rest herself, but they’d be out there.  
  
Thankfully, it’s not entirely up to Rorschach, and when he’d doubled over an impressive hour and a half after sustaining the injury in the first place, she’d pulled out all the stops(including the threat of what Dan would do to both of them if his stubbornness got either of them more seriously hurt) to persuade him to come home for the night.  
  
So here they are, one deep tissue massage and a metaxalone later – Walter’s request, dug from the depths of the medicine cabinet – and Laurie’s not really sure just when the lube came out or when Walter got so hard but there’s something about just teasing him with the ends of her fingers that’s amazingly satisfying. Possibly because he’s too relaxed to have his usual thirty-second freak out, and has been lying back, stripped naked and with his mask strung over the nearest bedpost, moaning helplessly to himself for the last five minutes.  
  
When she drags her fingers up between his cheeks, one catches and slips inside like it belongs there, effortless.  
  
*  
  
After a while, he stopped fighting the drugs, even started requesting them when he was sure his condition merited it. It didn’t take his judgment away; just made it easier to ask for something his body needed without having to face the damning thoughts head on, and if things progressed more freely this way, that made it easier on both of them.  
  
_–need you–_  
  
Long nights of hidden, tamped-down lust could end painlessly now, stretched over a cot or Daniel’s workstation, feeling his heartbeat in his throat and Daniel’s teeth at his back and the soft steady rocking together, always together.  
  
*  
  
“Holy shit,” Laurie says, looking up to check his face, and it’s the same as before – not upset, not surprised, not shocky with panic, just wallowing and lost. “Walter...”  
  
He whimpers something indistinct in approval, and she slides the rest of her finger in, clear to the knuckle. The sight’s almost enough to make her whimper, too.  
  
It’s not that he hasn’t done this before – he’s taken Dan inside, and her strap-on, which is thicker than either of them and even Dan has trouble with it unless Walter’s been in him for a while first. It just usually takes an awful lot more work than this, and when she draws her finger back out she goes straight from one to three, careful and slow.  
  
Still no resistance – just the warm, wet slide of her fingers moving inside him, loose and easy and–  
  
“Taking advantage of drugged state?” he finally manages, and it draws her up short.  
  
*  
  
The first time Daniel had approached him sober, he hadn’t known what to do, how to even process the request. It should have bothered him, that he could ask for this with such ease in one context and couldn’t fathom it in another; and it took so much longer, indeterminable minutes of careful easing-in, Daniel’s bedsheets caught up in tight crumpled handfuls.   
  
It was uncomfortable, and his condemning thoughts were wide awake and screaming, but his body adjusted and Daniel seemed so much happier that way, knowing he really wanted it. All Rorschach could do was keep his eyes screwed shut and go on pretending he did want it until it became true. And it did, every time.  
  
_–need you in–_  
  
Sometimes Daniel wanted him on top, wanted filling himself, and that was safer and easier without the drugs; felt good, powerful, if terrifyingly  _close_. But still nothing was as satisfying as that mind-calming haze, the careful stretch, body pulling open and apart around Daniel’s invasive heat, drowning in it.  
  
When he could feel another person moving around inside him and not  _hurting_  him – no, nothing else ever really compared.  
  
*  
  
She eases her fingers out, runs a trail of the slick up his thigh; it’s a seductive move, but her eyes are serious. “Do you want me to stop?”  
  
“...ehn,” he says, not particularly distressed. “Suppose not.”  
  
That’s as close to a shout of  _Oh god no, please don’t stop_  as Walter ever gets. “And would you say your judgment’s compromised?”  
  
“Of course not.” He picks the words out carefully, reaching back to twine one hand idly around the post, and he sounds vaguely scandalized. Which is a little hilarious, since he’s the one basically asking to be finger-fucked. “Just a relaxant.”  
  
“Bet your ass it is,” she mumbles mostly to herself.  
  
“Not a very good joke, Laurel.”  
  
She laughs, a little disbelieving. “Like you know humor from a hole in the ground. Anyway, yeah, I guess I am,” Laurie says, working back in, biting her lip as he rocks up against her fingers, driving them deeper. She’s not even sure where this is going; there’s just something intoxicating here, in the way his body’s accepting this, just spreading open around her. “Taking advantage of the drugs, I mean. God, Walter.”  
  
*  
  
He’s never been alone around Laurel in this condition, but he doesn’t suppose it makes much difference. She’s seen how Daniel indulges him on these nights, asking over and over again what he wants, never surprised to actually get an answer. Answers come so much more easily, like this. It is no secret space.  
  
There is an answer starting to form in his head now, her fingers pressing the question up into him, and the answer is  _more._  
  
*  
  
It only occurs to her when she’s gotten the fourth finger in and she sees the way his body’s trying to swallow the narrow ridge of her knuckles with every thrust.  
  
“Walter,” she starts, careful, twisting the thickness against him, pushing just the tiniest bit. Finally, some resistance. “Have you ever...”  
  
Then he interrupts her, a long, slow moan that she’s never heard from him before, like he’s discovered some new language of bliss, and she has her answer. Imagines herself buried to the wrist, and has to rock herself against the sheets, ineffectually seeking friction.  
  
“I’ve seen you like this,” she says, changing tack, voice suddenly more wobbly. “With Dan. You always want more, don’t you?” She folds her thumb against her palm, slips it in on the next stroke, then just leaves her fingers there, nestled into him, unmoving. The other hand strokes heavy down his stomach; he’s so volatile right now, so unashamed, and it’s amazing. “More than he’s given you. And you can’t ask, even now.”  
  
“...yes,” he admits almost immediately, voice strained. She spreads her thumb just a bit away from the palm, stretching him, and he only rocks harder, fucking himself on her fingers. “Can’t.”  
  
Laurie makes a sharp noise, settles her free hand on his hip, stilling him. It’s easier than it normally would be, and she keeps him motionless as she just presses in with her hand, leaning against his defenses, gaining ground a fraction of an inch at a time.   
  
Then she eases back, and he groans. “Well, that’s a shame,” she says, only halfway teasing. “Because if you don’t tell me what you want, I might not know what to give you.”  
  
*  
  
He would never have asked for this, but now that he knows it is something he can have, he needs it.  
  
“Please,” he says, and somewhere inside he knows he should hate himself for it. The voice is quiet, ignorable, and that’s a rare luxury. “Want all of it.”  
  
And she nods and bites her lip again and leans over him(Daniel, leaned over him that first night, concern and lust warring, marring his beautiful face), and even when she adds more slick it still burns when she starts pushing in, turning and turning to ease it along.  
  
“Here,” she says, and her voice sounds as strained as he feels, and he can sense a boundary about to be crossed. “This’ll probably hurt for a second but it won’t–”  
  
Then she’s still talking but it fades away to a background buzz because he can feel her explode inside of him and it  _does_  hurt but then it doesn’t, he’s just pulling her in until he’s fuller than he’s ever been and–  
  
*  
  
“Can you imagine,” she asks, rolling her fingers inside him and reaching down to work herself, sheets damp where she’s been crouching, “the look on Dan’s face when we tell him about this?”  
  
“Ahn... He has–”  
  
“Such big hands,” she says, groaning, twisting her hand gently. “I know.”  
  
He’s shaking, just a little, beads of sweat rising along his brow. She twists it further, pushing up and in, and that breaks him, makes him snap his hips up, drive her even further.  
  
“How many fingers has he gotten into you?” she asks, easing back again, to the point that she can feel him starting to stretch again around the swell of her hand. Then back in, slow, easy.  
  
A shifting in the body under her, and Walter reaches back to wrap his other hand around a headboard slat too, anchoring. His breath is uneven and his cock is straining back at an angle, harder than she’s ever seen him, leaking constantly.  
  
“Three,” he finally says, and his voice sounds like exertion, like a man pushed to his limits.  
  
“I could never fit him in like this.” Laurie slides her free fingers up into herself(only two, but it’s all the angle permits), grinds against the heel of her hand. “We’ve tried.”  
  
Walter whimpers under her, and she pushes a little deeper into him, spreads her fingers to make her hand feel bigger, forces him to feel how completely she’s filling him.   
  
“I bet you could, though.”  
  
That’s enough; he convulses, clamping down impossibly tight, silent and taut as he climaxes all around her.  
  
*  
  
She eases out of him carefully, but he’s barely present for it.  
  
_–need you inside–_  
  
Time passes, water running somewhere, and then there’s the warm wetness of cloth on his skin, cleaning his issue away. It feels like years and years of care, cautious hands exploring what they shouldn’t, warm in the dark.  
  
Daniel will be home later, smelling of sweat and engine grease as he climbs into the bed with them, and Walter has always craved that stability. But he’s still rolled carefully onto his side and a blanket pulled over him, a warm body slipping in behind him, and it’s just as safe.  
  
_–inside–_  
  
He feels her bring herself off against his back, breath shuddering over his neck, her body wet where one leg hitches over his(she understands why he couldn’t ask).  
  
Then they just lay quietly and drift, and it’s enough to be together in this, always together.  
  
*


End file.
